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Warnings: References to blood, canon-typical fight violence, profanity.
Note: I deeply apologize, but unfortunately my work schedule has become a nightmare, leaving me little time to write. I am running out of 'banked' chapters, and while I am hoping I can stay ahead and maintain a weekly posting schedule, I am not certain I will be able to. Rest assured, the story is mapped out, and I am writing as fast as I can, but unfortunately real life has other plans. I beg your understanding, and your patience; you all have been amazing and I don't want to let anyone down! I will do my best to post chapters as soon as they are available.
The rain pelted down with merciless force, feeling like tiny shards of glass against Clarke's skin as she leaned against the howling wind. The force of the storm bent the immense pine trees around her and somewhere in the distance she could hear a loud crack as one succumbed to the storm, crashing down to the ground.
She remembered what hurricanes had looked like from the Ark. From up above they had seemed awe-inspiring-almost beautiful-and their destructive power had been a distant concept. Now that she found herself in the teeth of one, she understood that there was nowhere to run.
Clarke had spent nearly two days on the run from Polis. Azgeda patrols had been the greatest threat for the first day, but once the hurricane bore down, nature became both her greatest ally and biggest threat. The same rain and wind that drove away the enemy made it incredibly difficult for her to travel. Several times she had needed to double back, confronted with raging torrents of water rushing down the valleys and hollows that made the way forward completely impassable. Despite the three months she had spent in the forest, under the cover of night and in the fury of the storm even familiar landmarks and pathways were hard to find and she found herself lost more than once.
The sun, hidden behind thick layers of clouds, had just slipped below the horizon when the sound of voices shouting carried over the howling wind and she dropped to the ground. Peering through the brush, she could see a pair of cloaked figures bearing torches and mounted on immense warhorses making their way down the remnants of the nearby path. Clarke's decision to stay off that same path probably saved her life; in the storm she wouldn't have seen them until too late, and she would have been completely caught out in the open.
Her survival instincts took over and she quickly scanned the area around her. She caught sight of a pine tree only a few steps away that had a few branches within grabbing distance from the ground. It was a little closer to the path than she wanted, but it gave her an advantage. But only if she moved quickly…
She raced over to the tree, ducking down low behind the undergrowth as her pack beat against her back. She heard the riders draw closer, cursing the storm and their horses as they drew even nearer. Adrenaline seared through her body when she jumped up, catching hold of the lowest tree branch and hauling herself up on top of it. She climbed up higher into the boughs and then crouched, catlike, on a thick branch overhanging the path. Her heart slammed in her chest as she drew her dagger and held on to her perch.
The first rider passed directly below her, adjusting the bow slung over his back so that he could draw the hood of his cloak further over his bowed head to protect him from the rain. The second rider moved more slowly as he approached, holding his torch aloft and peering into the undergrowth to either side of the path. Clarke held her breath as he neared the tree, coming close enough that she could see the raised weals of the Azgeda clan markings on his face. She willed herself to be completely silent and still.
A strong gust of wind shivered through the tree and the limb bowed and trembled. Clarke's reflexes were keen and she steadied her balance, regaining her grip on the branch. But rain spilled from her cloak where it had pooled within the folds, sluicing down onto the man's shoulder and neck.
He muttered angrily and dropped the reins with his free hand, swiping at the wetness that trickled into his armor…and looked up directly at her. His eyes widened, and in the torchlight Clarke saw confusion, and then recognition come over him as he recognized her silhouetted against the boughs.
"Hei!" His hand dropped down to the sword at his waist.
Clarke flung herself out of the branches directly at him. He had barely gotten his fingers around the sword's grip when she tackled him, driving the knife down with all her strength. He grunted as the blade slid into the left side of his chest just above his ribs and the gap in his armor. Clarke kept her grip on both the dagger and her enemy as momentum and their combined weight caused the horse to topple to the ground. Rain and mud churned as the horse thrashed, neighing in terror while Clarke grappled with the man. She pulled on the dagger to free it as his fists pummeled her ribs and fingers clawed at the pack on her back. The blade flashed, finding his throat, and his arms flopped into the mud with a sickening squelch.
She scrambled away from his body, dodging the flailing hooves of his horse as it struggled to rise. Above the thrashing animal she could see the other warrior jump from his mount, sprinting towards her and drawing his bow. She ducked at the same time the animal in front of her rose, and its scream tore through the air as an arrow thudded into its side. It bolted in a beeline for the man, striking out with its hooves and trampling him into the muck before disappearing into the forest.
Clarke staggered to her feet, gripping the dagger tightly in her hand and cautiously closing the distance between them. The man moaned, his voice slurring with pain as his foot twitched spasmodically. The torches had both been extinguished in the fight, but even in the darkness Clarke could make out the wet gleam surrounding the white slash of broken bone above the man's temple. Bile rose in her throat, but she came closer, snatching up his bow and quiver from where they had fallen next to him. She jumped back quickly and turned her back to the scene.
She took a few steps before standing still, her heart hammering a frantic beat within her chest as her hands shook from the adrenaline coursing through her. The rain pelted her, dripping down her sodden clothes and she could smell the heavy scent of blood and mud clinging to her like a cloud.
The snorting of the second man's warhorse drew her into the present and she shook her head to clear her thoughts. It stood near the side of the road and pawed nervously at the ground. Her survival instincts kicked in again, and for a moment she considered moving the bodies into the undergrowth to cover her tracks. But the rain was already washing away the tracks in the road, and she knew from experience that meat left in the open rarely lay undisturbed for long in the forest, even with a storm. She stepped to the side of the road, reaching down to grab a large handful of wet grass, wiping the blade of her dagger clean and replacing it in its sheath at her belt. She scrubbed her hands clean with another handful of grass, pushing aside the churning of her stomach as she slung the bow and quiver over her shoulder, adjusting them along with the pack on her back.
Her movements were careful as she approached the warhorse. She slowly approached from the side with her hands open. Shushing noises fell from her lips, more an attempt to gather her own courage than to soothe the beast. The mount tossed its head and whickered before it was still, allowing her to gather the reins in her hand. With a practiced motion, she planted her foot into the stirrup and climbed up into the saddle. Clarke knew that she needed to find shelter soon; she could not stay out in the storm circling around blindly and crossing paths with more Azgeda patrols. She didn't look back as she tapped her heels against the horse's sides and urged the animal up the road.
The hours blurred together as the storm raged and the inky darkness of the night pressed in around her. She peered through the rain, following the trail of subtle, yet familiar, landmarks. As the adrenaline drained from her system her temperature dropped and she shivered, soaked to the bone and utterly exhausted just as a familiar rock outcropping emerged from the gloom. The jagged face of limestone rose several stories above the ground, partially concealed by enormous pine trees. Clarke slipped from the back of the horse and onto the ground. While the animal would ease her journey, leaving it nearby would give away her hiding spot.
"Mochof, loukot." She smiled wistfully and stepped back, slapping the horse's hindquarters and watching it slip away into the forest and out of sight.
That done, she turned to the outcropping. Securing the bow, quiver, and pack on her back, she walked up to one of the trees adjacent to the rock, her memory certain that this was the right place. The cliff face was far too sheer and jagged for anyone to climb it, but she'd figured out a trick to it during one hunting trip not long into her three months in the forest. Clarke scrambled up a series of broken branches, the wood barely large enough to gain a purchase on. She climbed higher and higher up the rain-slick boughs, keeping her thoughts on the path up and not the way the tree swayed with the wind. Just over halfway up the tree, she spotted a subtle gouge in the thick bark of the trunk. Turning slightly, she stepped out carefully onto the thick branch under her feet with the trunk at her back. She could barely see the rock through the darkness and sheeting rain but took a deep breath and leapt out into space.
She hung there for a moment, hurtling through the night air, before landing solidly on a narrow ledge in the rock face, just wide enough for her to stand. Relying on memory and feel, she ducked into a narrow crack in the outcropping, barely squeezing through as her pack scraped the rock. She shuffled sideways a few steps, following the tiny passage as it weaved slightly before widening so that she could walk normally, only needing to stoop slightly. She crept forward a dozen paces more as her boots scuffed over the smooth rock beneath her before she felt rather than saw the rock walls widen even further into a wide-open space.
She took a moment to reach into a pocket of her pack and pulled out a small flashlight. When she switched it on, the tiny light illuminated the small cavern around her, and she sighed with relief.
The space was not much bigger than her cell on the Ark, worn into the rock by eons of erosion. A narrow pallet of furs, a few bags of dried goods, water skins and clothes, and a small fire pit filled up most of the room. Charcoal drawings dotted the smooth walls of the cavern; animals, people, and views of the Earth from high above blending together in a tableau. A thin layer of dust lay over everything, reassuring Clarke that no one had been here since she'd last left on her search for a panther to hunt.
Clarke brushed away the worst of the dust, starting a small fire in the fire pit with a bit of dry tinder and wood from the pile in the corner. The cave was perfect; the smoke trickled up and away through tiny cracks in the ceiling, while the winding entrance meant no light was visible from outside. Clarke took the bow and quiver from her shoulders and leaned them against the wall before lifting the pack from her back and gently setting it next to the pallet. She unbuckled her dagger but kept it within reach before stripping out of her sodden and filthy clothes then laying them near the fire to dry. With a grimace, she looked down at her ribs, where dark bruises from the Azgeda warrior's punches had begun to form. She ignored the pain from her sides as she shivered, naked, for a moment before rummaging in the bags and slipping into a set of rough spun, but dry, clothing. Lastly, she pulled a few packets of dried meat and berries from another of the bags in the corner as well as a small bearskin from the sleeping pallet. Wrapping the fur over her shoulders, she sat in front of the fire, quaking as the heat from the small fire leached into her tired body.
She sat there for some time, her arms wrapped around her knees, moving only to bring a few handfuls of food to her lips and staring into the fire as she ate. The sudden silence was almost deafening after so long being in the center of conflict. From the moment Roan had captured her and brought her to Polis, every moment had seemed to be heavy with danger, or struggle.
Well, not every moment…
"That's why I…that's why you're you."
The memories hit her quickly, like a tidal wave. The softness of Lexa's skin under her fingertips, and the way her eyes had gleamed gold-green in the hazy light of the setting sun streaming in through the window as she had sat on the bed, looking up at Clarke…
The salt of Lexa's tears on Clarke's lips and the way that she'd sobbed as Clarke nodded that she was not only forgiven, but loved…
But the memories shifted and changed, their beauty mutating into horror within Clarke's mind.
The way the black blood had spattered on the concrete floor of the throne room…stained the white cloth in Titus' hands…the white furs on the bed…
The way Lexa had dangled, on the verge of death, in Indra's arms as they had turned away from Clarke, disappearing into the unknown.
"No!" Clarke exclaimed, fighting against the raw wave of fear and grief that scrabbled against her ribs. Her words reverberated from the rock, leaving her sitting there small and alone. She could not allow herself to be lost to those dark thoughts. Yet, something within her was weak, crying out for comfort. She reached one hand out from the fur draped over her, opening her pack and reaching inside. Her hands closed over the familiar shape of her sketchbook and drew it out of the pack.
Clarke lost herself in the drawings on each page. A fruit seller, at the Polis market. A boy with a drum, banging out a melody. A bodyguard, gripping his spear and glaring over the top of a faceguard made of bones.
She froze when she came to the last page. Lexa's sleeping form confronted Clarke from the paper. Her fingertips reached out, ghosting over the charcoal lines of her peaceful lover. Her hand drifted to the short length of severed braid tucked in the spine of the book. For a moment Clarke was tempted to touch it, to dive deeper into the memories as if it would let her reach out and touch Lexa herself, but she stopped herself. It would only hurt more, she knew, as hot tears slid silently down her cheeks to splash onto the corner of the paper below.
Gently she wiped the tears off the page with the pad of her thumb before closing the book and replacing it back into her pack. She laid down on the pallet, wrapped herself in the furs, and surrendered to misery as the steely resolve of Wanheda fled from the storm within her heart. Her sobs filled the small cave until exhaustion claimed her and she fell into an uneasy sleep.
The journey to Arkadia took several days longer than usual. While the hurricane had abated, smaller storms slowed Clarke's progress before the weather eventually cleared. Trails and roads had flooded and the terrain over the mountains was challenging on foot. Several times she found herself second-guessing her decision to release the captured warhorse. Avoiding villages and trading posts added to the journey, but it meant that she was able to avoid being spotted. She'd managed to avoid a handful of Azgeda patrols, and fortunately hadn't seen anyone since nearing Skaikru territory. With the rebellion, Lexa's apparent death, and Trikru hunted by their enemies, there was no blockade to stop her. However, she knew the most dangerous part of her journey was now in front of her.
She sighed heavily from where she balanced in the branches of a tall pine near the edge of the treeline. Arkadia lay front of her and across the wide clearing. Her mother and Kane had briefly described the improvements and plans for the settlement when they had met with her the day she became Skaikru ambassador, but seeing the sprawling complex in person made her pause. From her elevated perch, she could see that ramshackle buildings had sprung up around the central Ark module, and smoke rose from what looked like several outlying workshops. Several dozen people labored in garden plots around the buildings. But most concerning was the imposing wall built of metal barriers that ringed the entire compound, dotted every few hundred feet with elevated guard platforms. Even at this distance she could see that every platform was manned by a man or woman cradling a rifle. She remembered bitterly how Anya had been killed; while she clearly had no desire to be shot out of confusion, simply showing up in the center of the camp after sneaking in would not help her cause any. Additionally, she needed the secret entrance Octavia had showed her to remain a secret. Just in case, she told herself.
Clarke climbed down, sighing again before she set her shoulders, willing herself into motion. She stepped from the trees onto the main road leading straight to Arkadia's main gate. She raised her hands up high above her head, showing her open palms and walking slowly in a straight line along the tire tracks in the dirt. She made it less than halfway across the distance from the gate to the clearing before a voice rang out in a shouted command.
"Hey! Stop right there!"
Clarke raised her hands even higher, slowing her pace but not stopping. "It's okay! It's Clarke Griffin! I'm Skaik-"
The gunshot rang out at nearly the same time as she heard zinging hiss of the bullet passing just over her head.
"I said stop! On your knees! Move and I shoot!" The guard's scream was frantic. Somewhere, an alarm bell started to clang.
Clarke gulped as her heart beat frantically within her chest. She stared forward, her shoulders aching as she kept her hands up in the air. Her gaze locked onto the face of the guard at his station above the gate, their eyes meeting over the barrel of his rifle. She dared not even move a muscle even as her mind raced.
Keten had warned her that not all was what it seemed in Arkadia, as if Pike's massacre of a Trikru village was not proof enough. But Clarke had thought she could bring everyone to see reason, to deal with the extremists within their own ranks on their own, especially considering the larger threat from Ontari. But immediate warning shots? On one of their own? The thought filled her with dread.
The gates ahead of her swung open with a creak, and a group of six black-clad guards stepped out onto the road, each one of them training their rifles at Clarke as they closed the distance between them. A tall, dark-skinned man strode confidently behind the group with his hand resting on the butt of a pistol holstered at his thigh. Clarke searched the faces of each guard as they drew close, but didn't recognize any of them.
"My name is Clarke Griffin," Clarke said as they came to a halt less than ten feet from where she knelt. "I came here to-"
"Shut up and drop your weapons. Slowly."
She clenched her jaw in anger but gradually lowered her hands, pulling the bow and quiver off and tossing them aside, followed by her dagger. A guard kicked the blade further away, even though there was no way she could have reached for it before they could fire.
"We know who you are, Clarke Griffin," the tall dark-skinned man said, grinning mirthlessly. "Or do you prefer if I call you Wanheda?" He said the Trigedasleng name as if it were a slur.
"Clarke works," she ground out acidly. "You must be Pike."
His smiled widened but his eyes were cold. "Yes, though I prefer Chancellor Pike." He stepped backwards, catching the eye of the closest guard. "Arrest her."
"Wait what?!" She started to drop her hands, but froze when the metallic sound of a rifle being readied behind her cut through the air. One of the guards slung his rifle, reaching for a pair of restraints at his belt. "I'm one of you! I'm an Ambassador-"
"Not any more!" Pike shouted aggressively. One hand pointed straight at her, but the other tightened on the grip of his pistol. "We don't recognize your alliance with the murdering savage they call a commander! You're her puppet, and a traitor to your people! I should just-"
"Clarke!"
Everyone turned to look back in the direction of Arkadia, and Clarke gasped when she caught sight of her mother running down the road towards them. Kane followed a few paces behind her. Both of their faces were tightly drawn with worry.
"What are you doing?!" Abby said with barely contained anguish, glaring at Pike and the guards as she and Kane approached. "That's my daughter!"
"She's under arrest."
"Under what charge?" Kane pressed.
"Treason," Pike replied. "She's spent the past three months in the capital of the enemy. She's an advisor to their leader. She probably came here to report back on our preparations."
"Like hell she did," Abby growled. "Even if that wasn't a blatant lie, you have absolutely no proof. We still have laws, Charles. Her duty was to represent us to the Grounder clans; to protect us!"
"And look how well that turned out." His voice dripped with scorn. "Our people trapped within a blockade all so that some tyrant of a girl can murder us on a whim and-"
"Lexa's dead!" Clarke's shout cut through the angry voices like a blade.
Every single one of the people surrounding her instantly turned to stare at Clarke, stunned by her outburst.
"The Commander…she's dead? How?" Kane's tone was heavy with mournful desperation.
Clarke gulped, slowly lowering her hands to her sides. She committed herself to the partial lie, channeling the fury in her heart to cover up the deception. "Lexa is dead. Killed when the other clans rebelled. Because she refused to carry out retribution against you for massacring hundreds of her people, as their tradition demanded, and showed mercy instead." Her words were pure venom and her gaze bored into Pike's, as if she could make him feel a fraction of the pain she had endured just by the intensity of her stare. "There is no more blockade. There is no more treaty. There is no more Coalition."
Pike blinked, and then smiled. "So they're weak then. Now is the perfect time to stake our claim on the land before-"
"You're not listening," Clarke interjected, ignoring his scowl. "Whether you believe me or not, the Commander was the only thing standing between our people and death. Ontari and Azgeda rule the Coalition now, and from what I've heard you know exactly what Azgeda does to its enemies." She turned to face her mother and Kane. "There's an army coming for us and no one to keep them from doing to us what you did to their villages."
"We've fought them before. If they want to taste lead, I'm happy to oblige." Pike gestured to the guard holding the restraints. "Get those cuffs on her and get her in a cell. We've got preparations to make."
"Wait!" Abby leapt forward, completely heedless of the guns all around her. "Please, give her to me. I can ensure she doesn't leave."
Kane spoke up as well. "Under the Exodus Charter, prisoners can be held under house arrest and put to hard labor until trial."
Pike's eyes narrowed. "Yes, but for minor crimes. Treason is hardly a minor crime. I'm within rights to just execute her," Abby's eyes widened in horror and she stepped forward, " No matter what you think of me I'm not a monster, Abby."
"Where could she possibly go?" Kane asked, spreading his hands. "Arkadia is sealed up tight and guarded twenty-four-seven. Even if she escaped, she'd be running right into the arms of people who want all of us dead. Let the girl stay under house arrest with her mother and work in the compound until a trial can be held."
The Chancellor mulled over the answer for several long seconds. He scowled, straightening his shoulders as he looked at each of them in turn. "Fine. Until a trial can be held. But don't mistake my kindness for weakness." His eyes met Clarke's and his voice was cold. "If you so much as step a foot on the other side of Arkadia's walls, you'll be executed."
Clarke said nothing, forcing herself to tilt her head in acknowledgement through the rage coursing within her. Confident in his victory, Pike turned his back and gestured for the guards to follow as he marched back up the road to the main gate.
Abby let out a small cry, rushing forward to envelop Clarke in a tight hug. The younger woman wrapped her arms around her mother, briefly comforted by the gesture before she withdrew.
"Mom…" Clarke's voice wavered for a moment before she tamped down on the emotion threatening to overwhelm her. "I tried to stop it but it all happened so fast."
"It's okay, Clarke. I know you believed in what you were trying to accomplish. I'm just thankful you're alive." The grief at the alternative clung to the edges of Abby's voice.
"What happened? How could it have fallen apart so quickly?" Kane asked, still clearly stunned by Clarke's revelations.
"I didn't tell you the whole truth."
One of the guards interrupted the conversation, shouting across the clearing at the three of them from his station back atop the gate. "Hey! Back inside the walls!"
Kane waved towards the gate in acknowledgement, taking up a slow pace with the two women as they made their way up the road. "Whatever you need to tell us Clarke, tell us now. Once we get inside those walls none of us is safe. Pike has ears and eyes in every corner of the camp."
"Lexa isn't dead."
To their credit, neither Kane nor her mother turned, only flinching in surprise. "Where is she?" Kane murmured.
As much as Clarke wanted-needed- to trust them, she refused to reveal everything. "It's better you don't know. I'm not even sure myself. If she survived the escape, I know she'll gather what's left of our allies and fight Ontari. I came here to warn our people, and to gain support against the Ice Nation." A tendril of worry squeezed around Clarke's heart. Even if Indra, Ontari, and Murphy had escaped with their precious cargo, Indra had said those who survived the toxin often wished they hadn't. Retaking Polis and defeating Ontari would take an army stronger than the Coalition-and its Commander-had been at their peak.
"We'll have to trust that the Commander can gather an army in time," Abby whispered, "although you'll find very few allies in this settlement to support rebellion, Clarke."
"Why? What's happened? Not everyone can support Pike." Clarke's fist tightened in anger.
Kane grimaced as they entered the gates to Arkadia. "Jaha is back, and ever since then there's been…strange things going on."
"I don't understand."
"It's easier to show you, rather than explain. But for now, rest. I'll see you in the morning." He squeezed her shoulder reassuringly as the gates clanged shut behind them.
It took a moment for Clarke to get her bearings when she awoke. She had grown so used to the sight of the morning sky overhead, or the stone and wood of Trikru buildings, that seeing the cold metal of the Ark walls was jarringly unfamiliar. She bit back a bitter laugh at the realization that the surroundings she'd grown up with her entire life now seemed menacingly alien and artificial.
She got out of the narrow bed and crossed the few steps to the tiny shower alcove in the corner of the room. The water was freezing and she hurried through the motions of bathing. A small stack of clean clothes waited on a small table in the room, and two notes rested on top of them. She set the pieces of paper aside as she dressed, turning her attention to them after she'd tugged her shirt over her head. Clarke recognized her mother's handwriting on the smaller note on top:
Clarke,
I tried to have you assigned to the infirmary, but Pike insisted on this instead. See me when you're able.
Love, Mom
She set the note aside and picked up the larger piece of paper, which was covered in blocky official type:
Clarke Griffin
Prisoner #319
You are hereby placed on house arrest status pending trial for treason. You are subject to the restrictions named below. Failure to comply will result in revocation of status and immediate and full prosecution under the Emergency Protocols of the Exodus Charter.
-Hard labor in the agricultural sector
-Restriction to Arkadia when not performing labor detail
BY ORDER OF THE CHANCELLOR
Clarke scowled and murmured a curse under her breath, balling up the paper and angrily throwing it under the bedframe. Leave it to Pike to use the trappings of Ark bureaucracy to control her when war was raging. She knew he felt that it was a legitimizing gesture, but it just seemed so incredibly petty.
Her scowl only deepened when she opened the metal door to her room and laid eyes on the individual leaning against the wall at the other side of the passageway, watching as he straightened at the sight of her.
"Clarke, we need to talk." Bellamy's jaw set in a hard line.
Clarke shoved her hands in the pocket of her thin jacket pointedly, not breaking her stride as she walked down the hallway. "Are you going to handcuff me again, Bellamy? I'm already under arrest."
"No, I just want to talk."
"Well I don't. Not this time." She took a deep breath, but still anger bubbled up within her, threatening to boil over.
"I know a lot has happened. But what I said last time was true, even if you don't want to hear it. We can't trust the Grounders, and Pike knows how to-"
Something inside Clarke snapped, and her anger boiled over. She immediately stopped and whirled around, squaring up in front of Bellamy. Her voice was as cold and hard as iron when she spoke.
"No, Bellamy. Pike's started a war, something you were a part of, all of which led to Lexa getting killed!"
"This war was already started, Clarke! Lexa started it! And I'll fight if I have to in order to protect my people! This is who I am! You walked away, I didn't get that luxury."
"Don't even begin to blame this on me, Bellamy!" Clarke raised her hand, jabbing the point of her finger into his chest. "I wasn't the one who went out onto that field with Pike and slaughtered an entire village in their sleep! I wasn't the one that pulled that trigger! You did! Don't blame your mistakes on me. Not this time." She jabbed again, pushing him back into the unyielding metal of the wall. "I came back because you, and our people, can only seem to end lives. I was trying to save them, to build peace! With Lexa. We almost had that, and you took that away. So don't you dare blame that on me," she growled, pushing him into the wall once more and away from her. "We're outnumbered here, and we can either live peacefully and build something to last with the Grounders, or we can die. We don't have to fight, or have people suffer and starve. Pike doesn't seem to understand that."
"Is there a problem here?"
Both Bellamy and Clarke turned towards the sound of the interruption. Lincoln stood in the middle of the hallway a few paces away, looking between the two combatants.
"What are you doing here, Lincoln?" Bellamy pushed himself away from the wall, glaring at the Grounder man and then Clarke as he adjusted the front of his shirt.
"The foreman told me to get Clarke. Said if I didn't get her for her shift in the fields in the next ten minutes we'd both get a double shift tacked on." His gaze met Bellamy's unflinchingly, his hand flexing at his sides.
"We're not finished," Bellamy frowned at Clarke and then Lincoln as he walked away down the hallway. Clarke glowered at his back until he disappeared around the corner.
Lincoln walked up, standing protectively at her side. "Let's go." They fell into step together, moving in the opposite direction as Bellamy, making their way for the exit.
"Good timing," Clarke huffed. "Another minute and I probably would have decked him."
The corners of Lincoln's mouth twitched upwards in a small smile. "I don't think they can punish you any more than they already have. It would have been worth another week of double shifts on half rations to see that."
They were quiet for a moment as they walked, and then Clarke glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, her voice just above a whisper. "Octavia told me that you were a member of the guard. That you'd volunteered. Now you're on a hard labor gang? What happened?"
"Pike," Lincoln fairly spat. "He canceled any plans that would have ended cooperation and integration between Trikru and Skaikru. He said that I was a security risk and to prevent sabotage, sentenced me administratively to hard labor." The look on his face was fairly murderous.
They reached the door of the Ark, stepping out into the sunlight. Lincoln nudged her elbow, jerking his chin in the direction of a small group of people gathered near the rear gate across the complex. Most of them held crude shovels and picks slung over their shoulder, but three black-clad guards stood among them.
"Wanheda, Oktavia ste kik raun?" His voice was a low whisper, his lips barely moving as he stared straight ahead. It was as if he were afraid speaking his mother tongue would bring down further retribution from their captors.
"Sha, Lincoln. Em-de laik Fleimkepa. Em kamp raun trigeda kom Lexa; em ste kik raun."
He glanced sidelong at her, a brief look of relief crossing his eyes. "Yu gada strat in?"
"Mebi. Ai gaf oso lukots."
"That's not an easy question to answer," Lincoln switched back to English as they neared the group. He nodded to the shift foreman, picking up a shovel from a nearby pile and handing another to Clarke. "I'll show you after our shift." His gaze was wary, as if there was more that he wanted to say, but couldn't. Not with so many eyes watching them.
"Okay," Clarke agreed, taking the shovel from his hands and falling into line as the work gang made their way out of the gate and into the fields. Anxiety wound its way through her limbs. There was clearly something going on in Arkadia even more dangerous than Pike's plans for the future, and until she knew what that was, she felt like she was wandering blind through a darkened room full of traps just waiting to be sprung.
The thoughts worried her throughout the day, as the sun beat down hot upon them as they labored in the fields not far from the walls of Arkadia. As the criminals in the group, Clarke and Lincoln were forced to complete the most difficult tasks. Breaking the earth apart and pulling up roots and rocks ahead of the rest of the workers was backbreaking work, and they got only enough water to make sure they did not collapse completely. The guards were a constant presence, and one of the guards in particular enjoyed tormenting her as she worked. She'd been carrying a boulder the size of a large toddler that she'd shoveled out of the ground when it slipped from her grasp, sending her sprawling to the dirt with a smashed hand.
The guard was there in an instant, his face red as he screamed. "Get the fuck up! Fucking useless now, aren't you?!"
"What the hell is your problem?!" Clarke picked herself up off the ground, wiping the soil from her eyes.
"Farm station. I lost my wife and son to those murderers, and I'll be damned if I won't be there to watch you swing, traitor. Ambassador, huh? I bet you did more for that grounder bitch than just kneel," he leered. "You're just lucky I'm not the only guard out here…never know when some accident would happen and we lose a worker outside of the wall…" He grinned menacingly, toying with the safety on his rifle as Clarke's heart hammered in terror.
"Dave, stop fucking around over there and get back to your OP!" the foreman yelled, and Clarke sighed in relief as her tormentor wandered back to the group. She labored furiously, reminding herself that her people were worth saving…
As the hours passed, Clarke found herself too tired to mull over scenarios and outcomes, and her mind fell blank as exhaustion settled into her limbs. It was no small relief when the foreman whistled sharply, just before the sinking sun hit the tops of the trees.
"Not long 'till it's dark, crew. It's not safe to be out any longer. Move out!"
The group trudged back to the gates, stacking their picks and shovels in a neat pile inside one of the outbuildings. The guards and other workers wandered back to the living quarters, while Clarke followed Lincoln to the main dining hall. It was only the promise of information that kept Clarke moving; not even a real meal seemed appealing after the day's backbreaking work. She could barely hold up the metal tray as she ladled what looked like some sort of anemic vegetable stew and coarse bread onto the tray, sitting down heavily at a table near the back of the room next to Lincoln.
"Now watch," he muttered, hiding his words behind a bite of bread, feigning disinterest in his surroundings. Clarke moved the food around her tray in between tired bites, casting subtle glances around her.
She didn't have long to wait. The sporadic trickle of people entering the building became a steady stream, and a crowd started to gather at the opposite end of the cavernous room, near the large empty space in the center of the Ark's makeshift market. It seemed to Clarke as if more than a quarter of Arkadia's population had gathered. They chatted quietly amongst themselves as they stood, smiling pleasantly but also looking reflective.
"Good evening, everyone." Thelonious Jaha's voice was pleasant as he walked into the room, making a beeline directly for the crowd. Raven trailed a few steps behind him, and as she looked around the room, Clarke caught her eye with a small wave. Clarke's heart sank as Raven smiled coolly at her, but turned her back to where the blonde woman sat as she greeted people alongside Jaha.
Clarke felt the feeling of unease increase. For all of their difficulties, it was unlike Raven to brush her off, especially after so long. Surely Raven didn't reject her like Bellamy did, she wondered.
"Please, be seated, friends." Jaha took up a place at one side of the room, spreading his hands in welcome as he smiled widely. The crowd shifted and many people kneeled in neat rows, Raven among them in the front row. Others, near the back of the group, hung back reluctantly with an almost wistful longing. All eyes turned to Jaha when he spoke.
"Be welcome. Be at peace. Be loved. Be without pain. Be here with me, in the City of Light. Many of you have taken the key to the City of Light, and know this place. You have found the path to peace, and away from all pain. Away from even death. Close your eyes now, and enter the City." He raised his hands skyward, and the people kneeling before him closed their eyes, slipping into meditation.
Clarke glanced at Lincoln as she whispered. "He sounds insane. What happened to him out there?"
"I don't know. He came back preaching about this City. Not many people believed it, but each time there are more that come to these meetings. And more fools kneeling." He scowled.
"And Pike allows this?"
"Why wouldn't he? Jaha and his followers don't get in the way of what Pike does, and they are easily controlled. They listen to his stupidity and call it enlightenment, and ignore the way the world burns around them." He shook his head.
Jaha's voice rose to a feverish pitch, his eyes betraying the fire of conviction that burned within him. "Now there are those of you that are unsure, that are afraid." His glance swept over the individuals standing at the back of the crowd, making eye contact with not only each of them, but sweeping over the rest of the individuals in the dining hall. His eyes lingered on Clarke for several long seconds, and when he continued, he seemed to be speaking straight at her.
"I understand your fear. I too, felt that fear. I ran from it-from the Ark above, through the sand wastes of the Dead Zone-but I could not escape it. And the pain…so much death and loss surrounding all of us. There is much about this new world that terrifies us, and inflicts terrible wounds on us. There is no shame in that fear or that pain. But ask yourself why you need to persist in your suffering. Think about how much better life can be without those burdens you carry. Escape your pain, and let me be the one to lead us to peace."
Clarke felt a ripple of shock travel throughout her body as she recognized those words. Ontari had said something very similar at her Ascension…
He finished his sermon with zeal, scanning the faces of those assembled before him. And then he kneeled, quietly folding his hands in his lap and closing his eyes. Silence hung in the air for several long minutes. Then a man at the back of the crowd set his shoulders and walked through the rows of kneeling supplicants until he stood in front of Jaha, crouching down on one knee in front of the former chancellor.
"I'm ready. Show me."
Jaha opened his eyes and smiled beatifically. He reached into his pocket, and the moment he withdrew his hand, Clarke's feeling of unease skyrocketed.
The former chancellor held a familiar small light blue hexagonal chip between thumb and forefinger for a moment before he placed it gently in the man's open mouth. Just as Clarke had seen with Ontari, the man closed his eyes and was completely still. His eyes flickered behind closed lids, and his lips moved slightly, as if he were talking to someone in a dream. After several moments of this, the man smiled and looked behind Jaha's shoulder briefly as if someone stood in the empty place. He slowly got to his feet, taking a place among the rows of kneeling worshippers as another woman knelt in front of Jaha and opened her mouth.
Clarke ducked her head, her whisper barely audible. "Is it always like this?"
"Yes, each time. More every night they meet. The people who take his key act very strangely afterwards."
"I've seen this before," Alarm crept into the edges of her voice.
"Where?"
"Polis. At Ontari's Ascension."
Lincoln opened his mouth to reply but quickly closed it as Jaha and Raven stood, looking directly at him and Clarke before making a beeline for their table. "Heads up."
"Clarke, it's good to have you back with us," Jaha greeted, sliding into a seat across from Clarke and Lincoln. Raven stood just behind him, smiling easily.
"Jaha, it's…interesting…to see all of the changes to Arkadia since I left." Clarke replied, keeping her tone neutral as her eyes met her friend's. "Raven, good to see you." She looked down pointedly at the other woman's leg. "No more brace? My mom must have-"
"Nope, not your mom. Jaha fixed it. He took the pain away when she couldn't." She beamed happily.
Clarke did her best to keep the look of surprised dismay she felt from showing. "Huh. Well, glad to hear it, I suppose."
"Glad you're back, Clarke." The mechanic smiled. "Pike didn't give all the details, but word spread you were back. Sucks about the charges."
I'm sure it's all just a simple misunderstanding," Jaha added. "I could speak to the Chancellor on your behalf, maybe negotiate a pardon."
Clarke's skin nearly crawled at the suggestion. "That won't be necessary. I'm sure my mother and Kane can make him see that I've done nothing wrong."
"You're angry, Clarke. That's plain to see."
"And I'm supposed to be happy about being under arrest and facing a death sentence? Again?" Clarke grit out the accusation.
"What happened to you out there, Clarke?" Raven interrupted. "You've got this chip on your shoulder and it's clear the pain from that is making you angry. The City of Light-"
"There's that word again. 'Pain'." She glanced coolly between the two of them. "Look, whatever you two have going on here, I'm not really interested. It may work for you, but I'm trying to keep our people alive. I won't run away from that." She stood without another word, taking her tray as she headed for the exit. Lincoln followed behind her only after shooting one last glare in their direction.
Jaha stared at Clarke's back as she stormed out of the building. "She could get us access to the mainframe. We need her. At any cost." His voice was flat, empty.
"She'll come around. Soon she won't have a choice." Raven smiled coldly.
Next time, in Chapter Nine:
Indra sighed. "As warriors, we deny ourselves so that we can carry out our duties to those we command. Heda is no exception to this, and carries a greater burden than any of us. That is what it means to command." Her eyes locked with Octavia's. "But I saw what happened when Costia was taken from her. She thinks I did not, but it was unmistakable. If she knew what danger Clarke was in, if she knew what Clarke had done in order to save her life, she would never forgive herself. She will punish herself, and I am afraid that this time, with all that she has suffered, she will not return to us."
Trigedasleng:
"Mochof, loukot.": "Thanks, friend."
"Clarke, Oktavia ste kik raun?" : "Clarke, is Octavia alive?"
"Sha, Lincoln. Em-de laik Fleimkepa. Em kamp raun trigeda kom Lexa; em ste kik raun.": "Yes, Lincoln. She's the Flamekeeper. She's in the forest with Lexa, who still lives."
"Yu gada strat in?": "Do you have a plan?"
"Mebi. Ai gaf oso lukots.": "Maybe. I'll need our friends."
Art by Foomatic